


Can I Get Your Number...For Insurance Purposes?

by EmeraldAshes



Series: Ineffable Husbands Oneshots [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, Car Accidents, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Just Another Take on the Aziraphale/Crowley Umbrella Moment, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldAshes/pseuds/EmeraldAshes
Summary: Crowley stared blankly at his Bentley. “I spent years restoring her. Years. And you just smashed right into her side. Just like that.”Aziraphale had never seen someone this bereaved over a minor car accident. The Bentley was not totaled, just, errr...a bit banged up. And a smidge crushed.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands Oneshots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527989
Comments: 25
Kudos: 237





	Can I Get Your Number...For Insurance Purposes?

**Author's Note:**

> Y'know, it occurs to me that my interpretation of this ship has both of them being a hot mess whenever the other one is around. But that usually translates to the POV character internally panicking while the other one comes across as mooostly smooth since we don't get a peek inside their head.

“You hit her.”

Aziraphale awkwardly approached the tall, redheaded man standing in the rain, remembering with a sinking feeling why he usually preferred to take the Tube. He was a rubbish driver. “I am so terribly sorry.”

The man stared blankly at his vintage Bentley. “I spent years restoring her. Years. And you just smashed right into her side. Just like that.”

“Really, terribly sorry,” Aziraphale added, creeping a little closer.

“The woman in front of me was driving some beat-up old Ford. Why didn’t you hit her instead?”

“Sorry?”

“It would have been a mercy killing.”

Aziraphale weakly chuckled, then attempted to hide it in a cough when he realized that the man was dead serious. He had never seen someone this bereaved over a minor car accident. The Bentley was not totaled, just, errr...a bit banged up. And a smidge crushed. 

The rain picked up, but the redhead seemed completely oblivious. He was wearing  _ sunglasses _ for God’s sake. Twisting his nose as the first cold raindrops hit him, Aziraphale reluctantly moved his umbrella so that it covered the man whose car he had just hit.

When the umbrella tilted over him, the redhead finally looked toward Aziraphale. “I, you, you’re, erm…”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit your head,” Aziraphale blurted out.

He laughed, the sound flirting with hysteria as he darted another glance at the Bentley. “No, I...You covered me with your umbrella.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, shivering as a raindrop slid down his neck and raced under his waistcoat. 

“But now you’re getting rained on.”

“I probably have it coming,” he said, feeling a blush warm his cheeks.

A lazy smile crept onto the taller man’s face. “Well, how about this, then?”

He wrapped a hand around the umbrella’s handle, his slender fingers brushing Aziraphale’s, and stepped altogether too close. They were both under the umbrella now, and the bookkeeper’s cheeks began to burn more fiercely. He had clearly been single for much too long.

“Better?” the man purred.

Aziraphale gulped, shoving a card into the man’s free hand. “My insurance information.”

“Right, thank you, Azir...how do you pronounce this?”

Not for the first time, Aziraphale cursed his parents. “Some people call me A.Z.”

“I’m sure your first name is lovely,” Crowley said. “I just want to get it right.”

Yes, he had been single for far,  _ far _ too long, the blond decided as his heartbeat quickened. “Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale,” the redhead spoke the name slowly, as if he were tasting it. He fished out his own insurance card, handing it over smoothly. “I’m Anthony J. Crowley, but you can call me Crowley.”

“I really am terribly sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated.

“It’s alright,” Crowley said with an easy shrug. 

“I called the police so we can make a report, and I expect they’ll be here shortly. I’ll be taking full responsibility of course.”

“No rush,” Crowley said, adjusting his grip on the umbrella handle so that they were almost holding hands. His palm was so warm on top of the other man’s. “You wanna get a drink after they clear out?”

Aziraphale stared up at him. “What?”

Crowley abruptly let go. “Do you not swing that way? I was getting a vibe…”

“No! I mean, yes, I do, actually, but I just hit your car,” Aziraphale said in an audible blur.

Crowley took a half-step closer, their sides only a hair’s breadth from touching. He watched Aziraphale over his sunglasses, his eyes a stunning shade of golden brown. “Well, you can pick up the tab, if you like. Come on, angel, I know a nice little bar right down the road. Warm, dry, quiet. We could have a glass of Syrah...maybe the whole bottle.”

“That does sound awfully nice,” Aziraphale said. “Erm, would you like to stay in my car while we wait? It might be a bit more comfortable since it still has all the windows intact.”

“Lead the way, Aziraphale,” Crowley said.

Some twenty minutes later, the arriving police officer knocked on the window of Aziraphale’s car, startling the couple making out in the front seats. He said formally, “Officer Gabriel Archer. Do you know where the owner of the other vehicle is?”

Crowley curled an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and grinned. “That’d be me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third publication across three fandoms tonight because, frankly, I'm bored and stuck in an empty apartment. I'm not above a little blatant attention-seeking at the moment. Please give me attention. ;)


End file.
